The Deeper the Passion...

by Jennifer Lewis

  “I’d like to see it.”

  “Her.” Mischief sparkled in his eyes again.

  Vicki tensed as visions of a hard-bodied blonde crept into her mind. “Oh, your boat is female.”

  “They all are.”

  “Why is that?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe because they drive us men crazy.” His gaze lingered on her face, and she felt her skin heat. “But we love them anyway.”

  The word love made her jump slightly. Not a real jump, a jolt deep inside her. Either way, it made her feel even more off kilter than she did already. How did Jack Drummond manage to fluster her like no other man?

  “So, this cup. It’s part of your family history and probably stowed in a dusty corner of this old pile.” She gestured at the stone walls around them. “Any idea where it is?”

  Jack tilted his head slightly as if thinking. “No idea at all.”

  “Can we search your family records?”

  “Pirates aren’t known for keeping detailed records. It’s harder to deny having stuff that’s written down.”

  “People don’t get as rich as your ancestors by being loosey-goosey with the books.” She lifted a thoughtful finger to her lips. “I bet there are some old leather-bound ledgers somewhere.”

  “Even if there were, why would they bother to catalog a worthless old cup piece? They probably threw it away.”

  “A family heirloom? I think not.” Though a shiver of apprehension did cool her. People threw away priceless things every day because they didn’t look like the stuff on department store shelves. “The Drummonds are far too proud of their auld Scottish ancestry for that. Look.” She pointed at the old stone kitchen fireplace. Above the big opening where cauldrons once boiled was a big crest, its paint faded and peeling from the worn wood.

  Jack smiled. “They did keep detailed records.” His dark gaze studied her face. “And I’ve been through them all with a fine-tooth comb. No mention of a cup.”

  “It’s not the entire cup. We found the stem up in New York. You’d likely have either the base or the drinking vessel, so it could have been described differently if someone wasn’t sure what it was. Why don’t we look together at the ledgers from the lifetime of the first person to own it, and see if anything crops up?”

  “Oh, there’s nothing of his. He didn’t build this house. Never even visited the island as far as we know. He drowned in a wreck with all his possessions.”

  Vicki frowned. “Then who founded this island and carried on the family line?”

  “His son. Swam ashore and took over the place. He was only fifteen at the time, but fought off anyone who came near with some muskets and shot he salvaged. Eventually he managed to rob and swindle enough people to rebuild the family fortune. I’m sure he was a sweet boy.”

  “I’ll bet.” She lifted a brow. Meanwhile her heart was sinking. “So if his father had the cup, it would have gone down in the shipwreck.”

  “Along with all his plundered booty and his latest child bride.”

  She sucked in a breath. Jack was playing with her. He’d known the item she came here to search for was long gone before she’d even climbed into his car. Then again, he was an undersea treasure hunter. “Did it happen far from here?”

  “Not far at all. The boy washed ashore here, clinging to a piece of spar. Can’t be more than a few miles.”

  “So let’s find it.”

  Again his rich, deep laugh filled the big kitchen. “Sure! We’ll just throw out a fishing line and reel it in. People have been looking for that boat for years.”

  Her ten-thousand-dollar share of the reward started to shrink in her mind. “And why haven’t they found it?”

  He shrugged. “Who knows?”

  “Come on. I know you must have looked for it.”

  “I did, early on. Truth is, these waters are filled with old wrecks, and I’ve always stumbled across something else to keep me busy. The combination of Spanish treasure fleets sailing regularly from Havana crossed with yearly hurricanes makes this area rich pickings for a treasure hunter.”

  “But you have better equipment now than you did then.” Excitement started to prickle her skin. “I bet there was treasure on that ship when it went down.”

  “No doubt.” Jack’s eyes rested on hers, humor sparkling in their depths. “I never thought I’d hear you begging to go on a treasure hunt with me.”

  “I’m not begging!”

  “Not yet, but if I don’t say yes, you will be.”

  His arrogance made her want to slap him. “I’m simply asking.”

  “No.” He turned and walked across the kitchen, then out through a door on the far side where he disappeared from view.

  Vicki stood staring after him for a moment, her mouth gaping open like a fish. Then she strode after him. She spotted him in a long, stone corridor. “What do you mean, no?”

  He turned. “I mean, no, I won’t take you out hunting for part of some crazy old cup. Though I’m damn sure curious about why you want it so bad.”

  “What if the legend is true, and the Drummonds won’t be happy again until the pieces of the cup are reunited?” She lifted a brow, trying to look nonchalant. It was a stretch.

  Jack raised his own brow in response. “From what I can tell, none of us is really suffering right now.”

  “And none of you is happily married, either.” Though his cousin Sinclair would be soon, largely thanks to her meddling.

  “Maybe that’s why we’re happy.” He shrugged and kept walking.

  “Were your parents happily married?” She hurried to keep up.

  “You know they weren’t. My mom took my dad to the cleaners in the divorce. She even got this island.”

  His mom was a famous Nicaraguan model, now on her fourth or fifth husband. “See? Sinclair’s parents weren’t happy, either. It’s his mom who’s the driving force behind the search for the cup. She doesn’t want her son to suffer like she did.”

  “How is old Sinclair? Still trimming his hedge funds into topiaries?”

  “Sinclair is a very nice man, I’ll have you know. And he’s just fallen in love, too.”

  “There goes your theory about the family curse.”

  “Get this. He and his newly beloved were secretly pining for each other for years—she’s his housekeeper—and it wasn’t until they started looking for the cup that they finally hooked up.” She didn’t mention her own fairy godmother-esque role in shoving them together.

  He reached a carved wooden door and rested one big hand on the handle. “How sweet. What if I don’t want to fall in love?”

  “Maybe you already have.”

  “With you?” His dark eyes twinkled.

  “With yourself.” How could he still look so handsome? You’d think all that sun and salt air would have wizened him into a raisin. Instead he looked bronzed and burnished like a fine statue from ancient Greece, ready to throw a discus in the Olympics or besiege a walled city. His body had filled out a little in the past few years—all hard muscle, of course. Lucky thing she wasn’t as soft as she used to be or she’d be in danger of falling for him all over again. “Okay, that was uncalled for. You’re surprisingly modest, considering your accomplishments. And I don’t suppose you have any shortage of women madly in love with you at any given time.”

  “You’re right, though.” He looked thoughtful.

  “You do love yourself?”

  “No. That I’ve never fallen in love. Not really.” His eyes darkened and he looked as if he was about to say something else but didn’t.

  She wanted to make a quip about how he’d been pining for her all those years, but she didn’t speak, either. Too much wishful thinking or something. “And you think it’s time you did?”

  Still hovering outside the door, he rubbed at the muscle of his left arm. “I do want children.”

  Her eyes widened. Jack Drummond wanting a family? She didn’t believe it. Maybe he was winding her up. “Maybe some will wash ashore in the next storm.
”

  “You think I’m kidding, but I’m not. I like kids. They’re fun. They bring a different perspective to everything, and they enjoy toys as much as I do.”

  Vicki laughed. “You’re always full of surprises, Jack. So why don’t you have any rugrats running around Castle Drummond?”

  “Haven’t met their mom yet.” He held her gaze while he tilted his head. “At least I don’t think I have.” His voice contained the tiniest hint of suggestion. Was he playing with her? In that case he might be playing right into her hands.

  “See? You need to find the cup so you can find Mrs. Right and start building your team. Let’s look at some of those big complicated maps you love and see if we can figure out where the wreck is.” She moved toward him. She could tell he was at least slightly interested, despite his protests.

  “I see you know the way to a man’s heart is through his nautical maps.” He finally turned the handle and pushed open the door. “But first, let’s go to bed.”

  Two

  Jack walked into the bedroom, knowing Vicki would follow. She thought herself wild and unpredictable, but he knew better. She wanted that old cup for some reason and she was very determined in pursuit of a goal.

  He couldn’t resist turning to enjoy her expression. As expected, she’d walked coolly in behind him and was surveying the space. “Nice. Is that bed French?”

  “Might be.” The big oak monstrosity had been there since the house was built.

  “I bet it could tell a few tales.” She walked over to the headboard and examined the carved decoration.

  “Lucky thing it’s discreet.” He swung himself onto the bed and relaxed, arms behind his head. “Come on in.”

  “You didn’t seriously lure me in here in hope of seducing me, did you?”

  “Hope springs eternal.”

  “I didn’t know you were such a bright-eyed optimist.”

  “You have to be an optimist in the treasure hunting game. Eyes on the prize.”

  Vicki’s almost-black hair was tied up in a messy bun, with tendrils falling about those adorable ears he still remembered nibbling. He let his eyes drift lower. She wore a black top that appeared to be made from pieces of ripped T-shirt, sewn back together. Knowing her it was probably from Paris and cost two thousand bucks. It hid her slender shape, but he knew that under its mysterious black layers was a lithe body with high, pointy breasts, and a stomach you could bounce gold doubloons off. A broad leather belt was slung across her hips, atop a pair of jeans that encased her long, slim legs. Desire crept through him, hot and relentless, like bootleg rum in his blood. “And the prize is tempting as ever.”

  “I see you haven’t grown more subtle in your old age.”

  “Not much wiser, either. How about you?”

  “I seem to get dumber every year.” A smile tugged at her cheeky mouth. Vicki’s lips were always dark, as if she wore lipstick, but he knew from kissing them that it was her hot blood close to the surface. “Otherwise, why would I be back here?”

  “Because you couldn’t get me out of your system.” He narrowed his eyes and watched her reaction. Of course it was wishful thinking on his part. She’d probably forgotten him ten minutes after he left. He’d certainly hoped so at the time. Things had gotten way too intense and it was time to lift anchor and run for the open sea.

  “You’ve been out of my system almost as long as the last dregs of nicotine from another one of my bad habits.” She lifted her chin. “So don’t get any ideas that I’m here for you. I’m just here because I need you.”

  “Be still, my heart.” He placed a hand over it and wasn’t surprised to find it beating faster than usual. Vicki must have that effect on any man. “Come lie next to me.”

  “No way.”

  “It’s important.”

  “Nothing’s that important.” She’d crossed her arms in a defensive posture, and her hips tilted at a defiant angle. Sense memory flashed a moment of luscious recall—her hips pressed against his, arching higher, driving them both to a realm of beauty and madness.

  “Not even finding your precious cup?”

  “I fail to see how climbing into the sack with you brings me closer to my goal.”

  He raised a brow. “I always thought you were a lateral thinker. The thing is, you need to join me in bed to see how things lie.”

  She pursed her lips slightly and shifted her weight onto her other foot. Her pale violet eyes viewed him with intense suspicion. “I can see how things lie from right here.”

  “No, you can’t.” He glanced up at the ceiling. Time had faded and darkened the image. The plaster had cracked in places, but the fresco still showed the green shore of the island against the pale blue of the sea. “Come on. Hop up.” He tapped the sheets. “So you can take a look at the old family map.”

  “What?” She peered upward, but he knew she couldn’t see anything. The edge of the four-poster bed blocked any view of the painting unless one was literally lying on the mattress.

  “Lazaro Drummond—the shipwreck survivor—painted the map above his bed, so that no one could see it but him.”

  “And his lovers.”

  He let a slow smile creep across his mouth. “Exactly.”

  Vicki walked toward the bed and climbed gingerly onto the opposite side. She settled herself on her back with her head on the pillow. He studied her for signs that she was uncomfortable—or excited—by being next to him on a bed. But no, she was entirely riveted by the painting overhead. She stared at it without speaking, almost without breathing, for a full minute. “I do believe this is the first real-life treasure map I’ve ever seen.”

  “They never do look like the ones in the movies.” He enjoyed the fascinated expression on her face. How long had it been since he kissed that sassy mouth? Six years, at least. The urge to repeat history was rising in his blood.

  “I keep looking for the X but I can’t see it.”

  “The mermaid sitting on the rock. She’s the X.”

  “Hmm.” Vicki stared at it thoughtfully. She hadn’t moved her eyes from the ceiling since the moment she lay down. “So the wreck is southeast of the island. Is there any kind of distance scale so we know how far it is?”

  “If the size of the island is accurately drawn, it would be about two and a quarter miles off the northernmost inlet. That’s what we Drummonds have always assumed anyway.”

  “And none of you has ever found it.”

  “Not yet.” He shot her a sly glance.

  She finally turned to look at him. Her pale eyes sparkled like diamonds. “That’s why I’m here.”

  “I can believe you bring luck.”

  “Luck? How about my sharp mind?” She looked back up at the painting.

  He felt as if the sun had shifted and thrown him into shadow. He wanted that bright, hopeful gaze on him again. “What will you do for me if I find it for you?” He made sure his voice held a purr of suggestion.

  “Do for you? You’ll get all the loot your ancestor stole and took to the bottom of the ocean with him. Isn’t that enough?”

  “There’s never enough.” He stared at her, willing her to bless him with her radiance again.

  She turned to him, cheek resting on the soft pillow. “What else did you have in mind?” Dark lashes framed her eyes, giving them a smoky, sultry look. Her soft, pink mouth looked ripe with promise. He could easily imagine leaning forward a few inches and pressing his lips to hers.

  Arousal thickened his groin and made his breath come faster. “I like having you back in my bed again.” Her mouth twitched slightly, which was almost unbearably sensual. “If you’ll stay with me here in my bed while we search, I’ll plumb the depths of the ocean for you.”

  Her eyes widened. “That’s a big ask.”

  “So’s yours. I’ve got projects lined up that could keep me busy until 2050. You’re asking me to drop everything and go fishing around on the bottom of the ocean for a wreck people have been hunting for more than 250 years. It won’t be ea
sy to find, that’s for sure.”

  “You don’t like things too easy, though, do you, Jack?”

  He laughed. “No, Vicki, I don’t.”

  “Then I can hardly just agree to your command, can I?” She sprang off the bed and strode from the room before he could even gather his thoughts, which were scattered and distracted by the sight of her tight ass in those fitted jeans.

  She knew him too well.

  * * *

  “So where’s the boat?” Vicki headed into the big living room, past the dark pieces of ancient furniture. Lucky thing she could still remember her way around somewhat. She tried a handle on one of the French doors, which opened out onto a broad, stone terrace.

  “At the dock.”

  “Not the one we came on. Your super-high-tech treasure hunting boat.”

  “Ah. That’s hidden.”

  “More valuable than the treasure it finds?”

  “Something like that.” Jack followed her out onto the terrace and squinted in the afternoon sun.

  Damn but she’d been tempted to take him up on his offer. He had looked almost irresistible, lying there relaxed, heavy and sexy as hell, muscles sinking into the soft mattress, and that cool, curious look on his face.

  But as she’d observed, he didn’t like things too easy. He got bored quickly. Anyone wanting to keep Jack’s interest better keep him guessing. And she’d already failed at that once, so the pressure was on.

  “You trust me, don’t you?” She smiled sweetly at him.

  That lazy, puma grin sneaked back across his mouth. “At least as far as I can throw you.” He took a step forward and her muscles tightened as she read sudden intention in his body. “Let’s see exactly how far that is.”

  His arms reached out and she shrieked and ran—down the wide steps and onto a scraggly lawn. She ducked left and looked for an opening in the sea grape hedge, but it was too late. Jack’s hands caught her around the waist and clutched her against him.